


All Fur Coats and Skimpy Knickers

by mypassionfortrash



Series: Roger Taylor fics and one-shots [31]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Facials, Lingerie, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Trapped In Elevator, fur coats, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypassionfortrash/pseuds/mypassionfortrash
Summary: Roger's been at the studio all day every day for weeks, and you're starting to think he's forgotten about you. So you hatch a plan to lure him back home for a night of debauchery and filth, only, the pair of you get stuck in the lift.





	All Fur Coats and Skimpy Knickers

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!

“Dressed for a night on the town?” Roger smirked, sinking back into the couch as he eyed you up.

You shook your head, and sauntered over to him, legs wobbling with every step. Your skyscraper heels didn’t help matters. But he adored them, so you wore them. You grasped the collar of Roger’s fur coat; you had slipped it on before you left for the studio. It smelled like him - vanilla, amber and lavender - offering a degree of comfort on your way over, along the promenade overlooking Lac Léman in Montreux, in your current getup. But even Roger’s scent couldn’t allay the nerves you felt, straddling Roger’s lap. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” you pouted, looking him dead in the eye. Clawing at his chest like an excited kitten, you continued. “You’re always up and away so early. And you spend your nights here, or down in the casino. I’m starting to think you’ve forgotten I’m even out here.”

“Oh, Kitten,” Roger fussed, squeezing his fingertips into your thighs, “I could never forget about you.”

“Why don’t you come back to the flat for a while? Surely you need a break.”

Roger shut his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “That’s the thing. We’ve got to get this album done. And we all need to be here.”

You understood, but it didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. “Just so you know, Daddy,” you began, unclasping the front of your coat, “this is what you’re missing.”

Roger’s mouth popped open, taking in your daring choice of outfit. Sheer black lingerie that left nothing to the imagination, complete with nylons and a garter belt - those always drove him wild.

“Like what you see?” you purred, trailing your hand from his chest to the waistband of his jeans.

Sat there, speechless and visibly stirred by the sight of you, if you had been totally alone, he might have cracked and thrown you over the mixing desk for this kind of performance. But rather, he just nodded, swallowing hard.

“Well, tough!” you hissed, clamouring to your feet. “I’ll see you when I see you, Roger.”

Charging out of the casino-cum-studio and into the wintry alpine breeze, you immediately regretted your choice of outfit. Not only did it fail to lure Roger home, but it was also much too scanty for a November night. You marched as swiftly as you could towards the other end of the promenade, back to the flat.

“Kitten - wait!” Roger shouted, rushing to catch up with you.

You turned around, thrusting out your arms as if to ask what he was playing at.

His fingers fluttered over the outsides of your arms, as he chewed his lip, trying to think of something to say to you.

“What is it, Roger?”

“I reckon I could do with a night off,” he said, a fiendish smile lurking behind his lips.

“Good to know you’ve seen sense,” you snorted, going back to your journey home with Roger hot on your heels.

The walk went in faster with Roger dawdling behind you; the promise of spending a night with him spurred you on unlike anything else. The pair of you burst into the lobby of your apartment building and bundled yourselves into the rickety old-fashioned lift. The journey to the fourth floor was wrought with excitement and nervous energy. It had been a while, after all. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Roger in your six-by-four cubicle, your hand didn’t have to search far to find his. The lift always took forever, though.

But between the second and third floor, an earsplitting creak screeched through the lift shaft as the compartment ground to a halt. That was your evening of debauchery ruined.

“Fuck,” Roger fizzed, frantically pushing the ‘call’ button.

A voice crackled across the intercom. “Bonjour? Puis-je vous aider?”

“Um…” Roger began, massaging his jaw and striving to remember some of his secondary school French. “Je suis… stuckinalift. Je ne parle pas Français. Anglais?”

“Ah! Yes, monsieur! I speak English. You’re stuck in the lift, yes?”

“Uh… oui?”

You slumped into the corner of the compartment, scowling at Roger to make him quit his broken French. “They understand you. Don’t make this worse!” you whispered.

“They might help us faster if I do this!” he replied in a hushed tone.

“I doubt that very mu-”

“Which floor, sir?”

“Deux… trois…” Roger shrugged, realising that this wasn’t going to work.

“Very well, we’ll get someone out to work on the lift as soon as we can.”

“Do you know how long it’s going to take?”

“Well, it’s quite late, sir. We can’t guarantee it’ll be fast. We’ll keep you informed.”

You and Roger leaned against opposite sides of the lift, looking each other up and down. He puffed out his cheeks. “So, what now?”

“We could make the most of it.” You shrugged Roger’s coat ever-so-slightly down your shoulders, exposing just a sliver of skin to Roger’s gaze.

It earned a raised eyebrow, as Roger considered his next move, thumbing away at his lower lip.

“Come on, Daddy,” you whined, moving closer to him, pinning him to the wall. “You said it yourself, you need a night off.” Your hand ghosted over the swell in his jeans. “I can tell you’re looking forward to it.”

“Won’t we get caught?” Roger choked.

“You heard them.”

A playful expression grew over Roger’s features. “Take the coat off,” he whispered, leaning into you. He didn’t give you a second to act on that order; he clawed it off your frame himself, leaving it in a pool at your feet as he dragged you into him. The urgency of your predicament wasn’t lost on Roger. He acted swiftly, with heavy, passionate kisses that left your lips plump and red, and your heart racing while his hands strayed. There wasn’t a patch of skin he could keep his hands off. Eventually, he gripped your hips, grinding them against his own. He made sure you grasped how much he wanted you. “Is this what you want, Kitten?” he purred, drawing his teeth over your neck.

“Yes, please, Daddy,” you sighed.

“Yeah?” he asked, pressing his fingers on either side of your neck, steering your sights right on to him. His eyes were so wide. And then, they darkened. “On your knees, then.”

Dropping to the floor, you kept your stare glued to Roger, eagerly awaiting your prize.

He did all the work. Unfastening his jeans, allowing his cock to spring free. Then he swiped the tip across your lips. “Open up, Kitten. Show me how much you want it.”

You dutifully opened your mouth, poking out your tongue to roll it over him; down his shaft, exploring every single vein, covering him completely. Anticipation simmered away inside you, knowing that if you indulged too much time on niceties, Roger would lose patience. Not that you would ever say no to that. You relished it when he took control. You craved it. But you had to work up the courage to take him in your mouth first. Your gag reflex always got in the way if you didn’t give yourself time to prepare yourself.

But you could sense Roger was growing restless. The guiding hand at the back of your head tightened around a fistful of your hair, edging you into him and his breathing laboured. His entire frame grew stiffer the longer you taunted.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Kitten,” he keened, positioning himself against your lips again.

Batting your eyelashes, you gazed up at him, parting your mouth and swallowing as much of his length as you could handle. You could never manage much on a first pass before he hit the back of your throat, inevitably sending an initial trail of mascara trickling down your cheeks.

He adored seeing your makeup run, and you adored it when he did everything in his power to make it run. Bunching your hair into a crude ponytail, Roger shoved his hips into you; he started tame, working his way up to a blistering pace that made you splutter, and his moans harshen.

Allowing you a brief reprieve to rub the strands of spit from your chin and your chest, Roger couldn’t help but remark on your outfit. “I always loved that bra on you,” he sighed, drawing his hand around his cock in swift, wet movements. “Come on, let me see your tits, Kitten. Show Daddy.”

Losing yourself in your determination to please Roger, you unhooked your bra and leaned back, offering yourself to him. Seeing him frantically tug at his cock above you made you throb deep down in your core. You desperately palmed at your pussy through your underwear.

“God, you’re a filthy girl, aren’t you?” Roger continued. “Touch yourself. Show daddy how wet his cock gets you.”

Sliding your hand beneath your lingerie, your fingertips got to work, gliding through your folds and circling your clit. Fixating on Roger’s hand and his cock while you put on a depraved show for him, the tension in your body skyrocketed. You loved the way he gazed down at you through heavy-lidded eyes and the low grunts that left his lips.

They grew louder.

His hand moved faster.

He moved closer, towering over you.

You could tell he was close. “Are you gonna come, Daddy?”

“Oh god, yes, Kitten. Let me see that gorgeous face of yours,” he groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “Where do you want it?”

“All over my face,” you smirked.

Roger tipped his head back, laughing under his breath at that idea. “Make you wear it while we get rescued?” he panted. “You dirty, dirty girl.”

“Please, Daddy,” you sang, reaching up to help him along.

But Roger just batted your hand away, planting his hand at the back of your neck to make sure he didn’t waste a drop. His grasp tightened, and his breathing wavered as he fired ropes of thick, hot cum over you. In your eyes. In your hair. In your mouth.

And then the door of the lift grated.

You tried to outpace whoever was on the other side of it; tried to scoop as much jizz off your face and suck it from your fingers. Tried to slip Roger’s fur coat over your shoulders. But you just couldn’t conceal your nasty little secret quick enough.

The door opened. Three engineers standing on a service platform took one look at you and Roger and exploded into fits of laughter.

You and Roger? You were thoroughly mortified.


End file.
